“Truly Scrumptious”
THOMAS ARTHUR REPP Executive Editor & Art Director REBECCA REPP General Manager ALLAN BURNS ROBERT KLARA WILLIAM ZINKUS Editors
T
here exists an old adage that purports to speak to life’s simplest projects: “Like taking candy from a baby.” I’ve always doubted that maxim’s veracity. The babies I know would kick the goo-goo out of anyone who dared swipe their lolly—and send the pilfering party packing with a pacifier crammed up the nose. Humans are animals, after all, and we beasts hold tightly to anything sweet. Case in point: a syrupy sojourn I took along US Highway 101 some years past. I was driving below Depoe Bay, Oregon, when I stopped to snack at Devils Punchbowl—a seaside state park that whips itself into vanilla froth with the changing tides. As I gaped at the majesty, a small squirrel approached. He was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and betrayed nary a hint of the acrobatic skill that might have earned him a guest spot on The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show. Then I broke open a bag of peanut brittle. A minute later, I was wearing a living fur cap and dancing the dance of a man who discovers a rodent on his head. The entire encounter played like a scene from Fatal Attraction. Glenn Close. With nuts. At length—after I managed to extricate myself from little Mr. Brittle—I was left with a lingering sense of déjà vu. That look in his eyes: I’d seen the same doughnut glaze in the faces of travel companions over the years. I’d marked that same craze for candy in everyone from my stepfather—who once snuck out of a Mackinac Island cottage after midnight to stuff his cheeks with Murdick’s Fudge—to my own loving spouse. They say marriage makes a man, but no one tells you chocolate chips make the marriage. Trouble at home, boys? Talk to Betty Crocker. Gumdrops and their gooey kin fuel road trips nearly as efficiently as gasoline does. Who hasn’t hit the brake for cake while vacationing by car—or screamed for ice cream from the passenger seat? Metaphorically, when we travel, we look to put sweetness into our lives. We reward ourselves for bland days spent at the office chewing our unsalted desks. Sometimes the journey doesn’t play as sweetly as we’d prefer. Our first feature—“Last Course: Yuba Donner Scenic Byway” proves that truth. It revisits the path of the courageous Donner Party, which attempted to cross the Sierra Nevada in 1846 and encountered cold bitterness. More often than not, however, the road unwinds like an endless whip of licorice, undulating toward destinations delectable. Consider Bowling Green, Kentucky—where the late Duncan Hines is heralded as a homemade hero—or Wellington, Alabama, once the headquarters of the Saxon’s Candy Kitchen chain. We drive the Duncan Hines Scenic Road and tell Saxon’s story in this issue of American Road. We showcase twelve historic sweet stops—the homes of treats such as Almond Roca, Cactus Candy, and Gibralters—in this issue’s signature feature, “Toot Sweets.” More than a decade ago, when I was gathering ideas for the publication that would be realized as American Road, I visited Juan Delgadillo in Seligman, Arizona. Juan, of course, operated Delgadillo’s Snow Cap, a Route 66 ice cream emporium that today enjoys international fame. During his many decades on the Mother Road, Juan watched history roll along. He lived through the dark flight of Dust Bowl migrants, the post-World War II highway jubilee, the roadside prosperity of the fat 1950s, and the lean years of the 1980s. Why, I asked, after witnessing so much, did he continue to sell ice cream? “Ice cream makes people happy,” he answered. The road less traveled is so often the sweetest. Leave that baby with the lollipop be—and try bouncing down the back roads in your own little buggy.
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Executive Editor G
In California, old US Highway 40 descends 1,200 feet from Donner Pass to Donner Lake. Opposite page: Bridgeport Covered Bridge, South Yuba River State Park, California. Photos by Craig & Liz Larcom.
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